Lochivan?
“It happens! Hold tight!” her companion warned her just as she looked up, realizing now that he was not the son of the patriarch but… but what?
Her question vanished as instantly as the cavern itself did. One moment they were standing in the center of a growing field of power, the next they were standing in darkness.
Doppelganger or not, she held tight to him. There was a coldness about the dark that she cared little for. It reminded her of a tomb or some other place where death was dominant. Even noting that her ability to utilize her powers had returned did not ease her mind.
Come to me, my children. Enter my court and be safe from those above.
They did, Sharissa almost without choice. Her body moved forward before she had even come to a decision. The false Lochivan was beside her, matching her pace. She could not see him clearly enough, but the sorceress was certain he was almost as confused and frightened as she was, a peculiar thing since it was he who had brought her to this place.
There is no need to fear. I will protect you. I have given my oath on that.
She could, of course, question the fact that she did not know how trustworthy their unseen protector was; if Sharissa was correct in her assumptions, then this was the evil that Faunon had spoken about so often in the past.
Evil is… evil is sometimes power misunderstood. Yesss, that is the way of it.
It was reading her mind too well. Sharissa strengthened her mental shields.
It chuckled. Allow me to relieve your fears. Elf, your lady is here.
“Sharissa?” Faunon’s voice cut through the darkness. A dim glow, reddish in color, formed an aura around a figure moving toward her. When it was nearly within arm’s reach, she could see that it was Faunon. Sharissa almost leaped into his arms when she recalled that the Lochivan beside her was a copy. How did she know that this one was not?
Tell her who you are, elf. Prove to her that she is among friends.
From the expression on Faunon’s face—if it was Faunon—he did not completely share the unseen speaker’s opinion. Nonetheless, he tried to convince her. “Touch my hand, Vraad. Carefully if you like.”
Separating from the false Tezerenee, she reached out a tentative hand. Her fingertips grazed the top of his left hand. As she started to pull away, he grabbed hold of her wrist. His grip was gentle but firm. The sorceress felt a tingle run through her.
“Faunon!” She started to reach for him, then recalled her other companion. “But who is this, if not Lochivan? I know you! I could tell that much the way I could tell this was Faunon.”
“You do know me, Sharissa.” The armored figure also wore a dim, red aura, something she had not noticed before. Sharissa gazed down at her hands and saw no such thing surrounding her, yet it should have been impossible to see her fingers in this darkness.
What magic was afoot in this place… wherever it was?
Lochivan’s treacherous form faded into a cloaked figure whose face was half-buried in the confines of a deep hood.
“Gerrod?” She was more ready to believe it was just another trick. Gerrod was across the seas to the east.
“It is me, Sharissa. Master Zeree came to me, suspecting that I could follow you where he could not.” The warlock spread his hands in a gesture of embarrassment. “I went astray for a time, but I’ve found you at last.”
“Gerrod!” She hugged him tight, so pleased to see someone with a link to home. The hooded Tezerenee stood with his arms open, uncertain as to whether to return the hug or not.
All is well now. Friends are together at last, came the voice.
Her initial euphoria died as Sharissa recalled the present. She stepped back and looked up into Gerrod’s countenance. “Where are we? What is this place?”
“As near as I can tell, we are deep below the mountain my late and unlamented brother Rendel called Kivan Grath.”
“Then the dragonlord and his people are above us!” Faunon blurted out.
They will not come here. I have seen to that.
“Who is this, Sharissa?” the warlock asked, indicating the elf. She could sense a growing tension between the two and feared that it was she who was the root of it. Never before had she suspected Gerrod of such jealousy, but it was evident in his words and his stance. How long had he loved her? She cared for him, yes, but… did she care for Faunon more?
“This is Faunon. An elf. A prisoner of your father.”
“This is a Tezerenee?” Faunon searched himself fruitlessly for a weapon. Someone, likely their unseen savior, had released him from his bonds. Seeming to recall this, the elf steadied himself in a manner of someone summoning up the will to cast a major spell.
She quickly intervened, for it appeared Gerrod was about to counter Faunon’s attack with one of his own. “No! Stop it, you two! Faunon! Gerrod despises his clan almost as much as you do!”
“Almost?” the warlock snorted.
“How does he come to be here?”
“Simple enough to tell.” Only meeting Sharissa’s eyes, Gerrod related his experiences, including his confrontation with Darkhorse’s counterpart, the Quel city, and the crystal cavern. Faunon took much of it in with skepticism, but the unseen entity, who remained silent during the actual telling, finally acknowledged the truth of it.
Even as I took you and your guards, elf, so too did I bring this one… and your lady. There was no mistaking the pride it carried.
“And what are you?” the elf demanded, turning to face where he believed the unseen being must be.
The laughter that assailed their minds was a bit too uncontrolled for Sharissa’s tastes. Yet, there was something familiar about the creature… something…
She recalled what it was. “I know you! I know what you are!”
Do you?
“I do!” She looked at Gerrod, who would understand what she was about to say. “He—it—is one of the servants of the founders, one of the guardians!”
Gerrod was skeptical. “They abandoned this plane. There was argument over whether they should obey the dictates of the Faceless Ones or even if the founders’ experiment should be continued. There was apparently one that—”
“That broke from their ranks!” Sharissa peered into the darkness, searching for something to focus on. She thought she saw two glittering specks, eyes, perhaps, but could not be certain. “You’re the outcast, the renegade!”
Faunon was about to ask what she spoke of, but her last words had struck a nerve—if it had nerves—of the being.
I am outcast and renegade because I see the future as it must be! I will not be servant to dusty memories! I will be the future!
“And lo, a god was born…” muttered the elf.
Yesss, I like that! I will be a god as they were!
It was time, Sharissa decided, to turn the conversation to another direction. The guardian was building itself up to a megalomaniacal outburst of truly godlike proportions and had to be brought down. “And what about us? Why are the three of us here? Why bother rescuing us?”
Hesitation. Then, I remember Dru Zeree. I remember his knowledge. You are his off-spring. You possess the same traits. When I sensed you among the Tezerenee, I knew that I must take you. Use you.
“He told me something of the same sort,” whispered Gerrod.
“And me?” asked Faunon, not at all sounding as if he really wanted to know.
You are here because of her, but I’m certain you will make yourself useful.
Sharissa was drawing conclusions from what had been said, but she needed more. The sorceress hoped her thoughts were sufficiently obscured, else she was playing directly into the mad guardian’s hands—not that it had any. “What about Darkhorse? Why not bring him here?”
This time she was positive she felt the entity stir in growing anxiety. He has no place here.
“But he, like Faunon, is a friend. A good friend!”
Twin coals, fully ablaze, burst forth from the darkness. They glared at the tri
o, the eyes of a would-be god, but Sharissa, at least, felt more like a child was trying to make a scary face at her than that she was being menaced by a fearsome being with the power to do anything it wished. How godlike was the guardian? Was it bluffing?
He has no place here. Not in my world.
“What are you going to do with us?” Gerrod wanted to know. He looked weary and disgusted with himself.
Do? Nothing! I am your friend. I am friend to you all. You will witness my experiment and the culmination of my vision. I have succeeded where the founders failed! I will bring to this world the successors they failed to create! There will be so much to do—
“And you want us to guide you!” At last Sharissa understood their place in the outcast’s vision. It had broken away from the others after countless millennia of absolute loyalty. “The Vraad manipulated their world for generations, but you, for all the time you’ve existed, have little or no experience at this! All your existence you have served the founders’ wishes!”
Faunon found this incredible. “He wants us to help him control the lands!”
You will help me… or I will let you leave.
The trio stood there for several seconds, waiting for some clarification, but the guardian was silent. Finally, her patience already thin, Sharissa took it upon herself to ask the fatal question. “What sort of threat is that? What waits for us out there?”
The eyes were joined by the vague outline of a tremendous beast—possibly a wolf. From the way it winked in and out of existence, it was obvious that the outcast was testing forms, trying to find one that pleased it. While we have talked—for longer than you think—the new kings of the land are being born.
Her eyes widened. She had thought that their conversation had been delaying the work of the guardian.
Your thoughts, Sharissa Zeree, and those of your companions, are mine as well. It chuckled again, taking amusement in their confusion and realization.
“What’s happening above?” Gerrod demanded. “What’s happening to my people?”
Concern? For them? I am merely bringing out their true nature—both here and in the splendid citadel they have built. They were worthy of rule before, but now their success is guaranteed!
While Gerrod stared without seeing, his mind on his brethren and the fate the renegade had cast for them, Sharissa sought some way to turn back what had been set in motion. “Your own kind will not permit this, guardian! The land itself, the legacy of your masters, will stir at this affront! You’ve broken the most sacred of laws set down by the founders!”
She had hoped to stir uneasiness, but the entity was gloating, not fearful. The land sleeps for as long as I will it and those others like me have left this plane. They will not know what occurs until after it is done and I have proved myself!
The warlock, meanwhile, had stirred himself to life once more. He took a step toward the barely seen outline in the dark and shouted, “Damn you! I’m asking again! What have you done to them?”
The laughter again. We will see how well they truly follow the totem of the drake. Gerrod turned around, seeking the entrance to this cavern. “I’ve got to go to them! Warn them!”
“You hate them!” Faunon quickly reminded him. Nonetheless, the elf, too, looked as if he wanted to find any path leading away.
The hooded Tezerenee did not deign to reply, but Sharissa understood. Gerrod cared for his clan, for individuals within it. His hatred was for those who ruled it—his father, Reegan, Lochivan—and he was not even willing to consign those three to whatever fate the guardian had in mind.
There is no way out of here, came the triumphant voice in their heads. And you would only suffer the same fate as they.
“It’s true,” Faunon whispered to Sharissa. “I cannot find a passage anywhere!” A living fury came among them. Gerrod, looking all too much like the drake that his people looked to as their symbol, confronted the elemental. There was a stirring of power like none that the sorceress had felt in fifteen years. In fact, it reminded her of only one thing, but the intensity of it was beyond what should have been available to the warlock.
Vraad sorcery. Oh, Gerrod! She shook her head in disbelief and reached out with her senses to verify the horror before her. You’ve broken the barrier between worlds! You’ve let the foulness that we created seep into our midst!
She understood some of why he had performed the unthinkable, but that did not forgive him—even if this proved to be enough to aid them in escaping.
A quake rocked the cavern as the warlock unleashed a tangle of glowing, scarlet tendrils at where the guardian supposedly was.
“The curse of the Vraad!” Faunon snarled, emotions in turmoil. He had told her that his legends spoke of the way of the Vraad race, yet she knew that while he loathed what Gerrod represented, he, like her, hoped it would at least do some good.
Gerrod’s spell did not stop. He continued to feed the lifeforce of Nimth into it, twisting that world a little further and doing untold damage to the Dragonrealm at the same time. Even with all of that, there was still no reaction from the target of his wrath save that the dim image had vanished. It was still there, however. All three of them could feel its overwhelming presence.
By now, the tendrils filled the space before the threesome, illuminating the chamber as it had never been illuminated since their arrival. Sharissa silently verified that there was, indeed, no passage out. This cavern was a bubble in the mountain rock.
Gerrod screamed as his body finally gave in to the rigors of his sorcery. He collapsed to the floor.
The tendrils pulsated with such intensity that the sorceress and the elf had to cover their eyes.
Silence lingered for more than a minute, by Sharissa’s reckoning.
Slowly and so quietly that they at first thought that they had imagined it, the laughter of the mad guardian rose and reverberated around them.
The tendrils winked out of existence.
Gerrod looked up, his face drawn and far older than his father’s. The toll of unleashing so much destructive sorcery had drained more than his strength; it had drained a part of his life from him, too.
A fitting position to be in, it said, and they all knew it referred to Gerrod’s sprawled form. He had only risen to his knees by the time it added, Fitting for one who faces his new deity!
Faunon was shaking his head in dismay, but Sharissa was not satisfied with the outcome. Was it her imagination, or did the presence of the outcast seem just a little bit less oppressing than it had been before the attack?
It did not reprimand her for the traitorous thought, another interesting note.
Still, the guardian was enjoying its latest victory. The two fiery eyes returned, focusing on the trio as a whole. I think perhaps I would like you two to join your poor companion! Sharissa felt an unstoppable urge to kneel. Despite the uselessness of doing so, she fought it all the way to the ground. I think it is time to give your god the dues deserved!
Her head was just being forced downward—mortals were not supposed to look up in the presence of gods, of course—when another voice entered her head and commented, Rest assured, outcast, you will receive all that is due to you.
The cavern exploded into turmoil. The two humans and the elf fell flat in the hopes of avoiding what seemed like the world itself at war. Even the tremors caused by Gerrod’s spell had not rocked the cavern like this. Sharissa glanced up and saw that the ceiling was cracking in places. She hoped that none of the pieces that chose to fall would be above them. With no passage out, they were trapped. Trying to teleport out during such madness would have a greater chance of making them part of the mountain than sending them to safety. That their best odds lay in lying still and hoping for the best was not something the younger Zeree cared to contemplate.
A bolt of purple lightning flashed across the cavern. Something roared in the dark. The floor cracked next to Faunon, who quickly rolled over to Sharissa when it became apparent the fault would continue right underneath his
original position. Large chunks of rock and earth broke free of the ceiling and plummeted downward, one landing within a few yards of the frozen sorceress. She muttered ancient Serkadion Manee’s name and tried not to think about where the next fall would land.
As quickly and violently as it had begun, the tempest died. The three were plunged into darkness, not even their auras remaining to give them some sense of light.
“Sharissa?” Faunon’s voice was like a beacon. “Are you hurt?”
She coughed, clearing some of the floating dust from her lungs, and, in the same quiet tones, replied, “I think so. I won’t trust that until I can see myself. Gerrod?”
There was no answer. His last image burned into her thoughts, Sharissa stirred herself to movement.
“Where are you going?” the elf asked.
“I need to find out what happened to Gerrod.”
Would light aid you in this?
She froze at the return of a voice to her mind. “I don’t need your mockery now. If he’s dead, it’s your doing! What happened?”
The voice was almost indifferent, a great contrast to earlier conversations. I think you mistake me for the other. Is that so?
“What do you mean?”
I am not the outcast, the one who would be a god. I have been called such by others of your kind, but I have never yearned for that which was not my calling.
“You’re another guardian?” She wished there was light, even though she still would have seen nothing. Unless they willed it, the guardians were always invisible.
The chamber lit up so bright that Sharissa was blinded. An angry curse from behind her told the Vraad that Faunon, too, had not been prepared.
Gerrod was not affected by the light; he lay on his stomach, his cloak and hood obscuring most of his body. She quickly moved to his side.
I am.
“What?” Her question came back to her. “Oh. I see. Are you… you must be…” She could not think, being busy in checking the Tezerenee’s condition. Sharissa gasped when she pulled back the hood. Gerrod was an old man, wrinkled and dying. “No!”
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II Page 92